annavere | Reading

What I’ve Just Finished Reading

Carol Ryrie Brink’s Mademoiselle Misfortune, a charming book from the 1930s. Young Alice is the oldest of six look-alike sisters in Paris, and one day overhears the landlady sighing that the girls are six misfortunes for their family: imagine having to pay six dowries! But soon after, a crotchety American lady (the sister of a friend of the family’s) asks Alice to accompany her on a trip through France as her interpreter, in which position Alice comes into her own as a person. Delightful illustrations by Kate Seredy.

I realize there’s no guarantee that an author will ever meet her illustrator, but I hope Brink and Seredy did come to know each other, as based purely on their books I think they could have been besties.

What I’m Reading Now

Frolicking through E. M. Delafield’s The Provincial Lady in America. No deep thoughts, just enjoying this whirlwind tour of the American literary world in the 1930s. Apparently everyone who was anyone was reading Anthony Adverse, except for our narrator who keeps having to duck conversations about the book.

What I Plan to Read Next

lucymonster and

troisoiseaux have convinced me to read some existentialists, so I’m starting with Jean-Paul Sartre’s Nausea because I figure that if I start with Camus, then Camus is where I will also end.

brightknightie

Here are some recent fannish things I've happened to see and would like to share!

Spotlight: I went to see Stand By Me on the big screen during its fortieth-anniversary return to theaters in March. I'd actually never seen it before, though I knew almost everything about it through cultural osmosis and felt, watching, almost as if I had seen it before. It's an excellent movie, of course. Well-crafted, well-acted, challenging, and satisfying. At this end of history, it was sometimes difficult to see the characters through their famous actors, like when the character played by River Phoenix vanishes as the narrative switches from past to present and the moment packs a doubled punch. It would not be made the same way today, and I think it would be the less for that. (Everyone knows the Pokémon Stand by Me trivia, right?) ( Read more... )

Ficathons, fests & communities

Create & engage
- fkficfest, the annual Forever Knight event, has prompting 5/03-16, with stories due 7/18.
- 3weeks4dreamwidth, an annual celebration of DW, runs 4/25-5/15.
- allbutromance, a gen exchange, has nominations through 4/16, signups 4/20-5/03, and works due 8/14.
- bitesizedfandomsex, an exchange for canons that can be consumed in 8 or fewer hours, has sign-ups through 4/12 and works due 5/30.
- whumpex, an exchange for stories in which characters hurt, has nominations through 4/18, sign-ups 4/21-5/04, with works due 6/02.
- seasonalremix, a match-by-trope remix event, has sign-ups through 4/11, with the original story due 4/18, and a matched remix due 6/20.
- whatif_au is hosting its annual AU bingo through 7/31.
- seasonsofdrabbles, a quarterly drabble exchange, has nominations and sign-ups through 4/12.
- spring_renewal, an open promptfest (panfandom + original works), has fills 4/10-30.
- bookclub_dw is a monthly reading club (one month to read the elected book, one to discuss it).
- allbingo's April theme is "flower fest."
- trope_of_the_month's April theme is "fake dating."
- pinchhits is a community for posting needed fills for exchanges. For example, goreswap is currently seeking pinch hitters.
- whenisitdue tracks many more events than I note here!
Enjoy & share
- fancake (themed fanfic recs); April theme: "arranged marriage"
- gensplosion (gen fanfic recs)
- het_reccers (m/f fanfic recs)
- fanart_recs (fanart recs)
- recthething (fanwork recs)

Sidelight: Last year was my year of re-reading Lois McMaster Bujold. This year, I think, will be Rex Stout.

lirazel

Trying to bring this back!

What I finished:

+ Disciples of White Jesus: The Radicalization of American Boyhood by Angela Denker. This was not exactly what I expected, which was a more sociological exploration of the way that white Christian boys are being taught white supremacist/Christian nationalist beliefs. Instead, it was a very personal journalistic exploration that drew on sociological data. Denker did things like travel to Columbia, SC to meet the pastor of the young man who murdered worshipers at Mother Emanuel church in Charleston, talked to pastor teaching confirmation classes in rural Midwestern communities, and drew on her own work as a pastor to get an angle on what white Christian boys are being taught about masculinity.

This is very much a book for Christians; it is written from a progressive Christian perspective and as such would probably be annoying to people who are progressive but not Christian. Still, I don't regret listening to it and I am glad this resource is out there for Christians who are trying to combat extremism within the church.

What I'm reading:

+ Orlando by Virginia Woolf for book club. I'm about 1/3 of the way through, and I am glad this wasn't my first Woolf. The language and the flashing insights are gorgeous, of course, and I actually love how deeply weird it is with things like time--it's absolutely written on a mythic scale which I think is very cool--but I think if this was my first Woolf I would be more wtf??? about it. The casual racism is a lot!

I don't know that I will ever love this like I do Mrs. Dalloway, but it's certainly an interesting reading experience and I am enjoying myself! We'll see how I feel when I'm done.

+ The Magician's Daughter by H.G. Parry. Despite my intense annoyance at books about female protagonists whose titles frame them in relationship to a man, I checked this one out on a whim. It has the energy of an old-school YA fantasy novel (complimentary) and I'm enjoying it! It doesn't feel formulaic or as simplistic as most YA does today, even if it doesn't quite have the richness of my old faves.

I was taken from the beginning; the story starts out with a teenage girl who's been raised on a magical island in a crumbling castle, knowing nothing about the rest of the world except what she's read through books. Classic Lauren-bait, 11/10, no notes. Once we leave the island, things don't hit quite as hard for me, though I'm reserving my judgement until I finish it.

It turns out it's one of those "magic is disappearing!" books, which I think is an overdone trope, but this is certainly one of the better versions of that story I've read. The worldbuilding is quite fun, even if it isn't very innovative. There's no romance, the main relationship is between the protagonist and the man who raised her, which is well done. Hopefully we'll get some real emotional oomph in the last third of the book and I will be able to unabashedly recommend this to people who are looking for a light but not insubstantial read.

+ "You Just Need to Lose Weight" and 19 Other Myths About Fat People by Aubrey Gordon. I just needed an audiobook to listen to while I was cooking on Sunday, and I was like, "Wait! Aubrey from my beloved Maintenance Phase podcast has books! I can just listen to her read them!"

I knew a lot of this stuff already, but Aubrey is such a great person to hang out with--funny, compassionate, uncompromising when she needs to be. The work of fat advocacy she does must be exhausting considering the everything of our current culture (for a while there in the 2010s I really did think we were making strides on the topic of bodies, and then the one-two punch of Covid and weight loss drugs happened and now we're right back to heroin chic and it's so awful), but I admire her so much for doing it.

yourlibrarian posting in

tv_talk

Laptop-TV combo with DVDs on top and smartphone on the desk

Vince Gilligan was recently quoted as saying “[Slow storytelling] is a plus in a world of very fast-paced editing and TikTok videos that are only a minute long. If the whole world were to move at that pace...that would be very sad to me. I think there is a certain percentage of the viewership… is ready for a slower pace. It’s fast food versus home cooking.”

Have you found that the pace of TV storytelling has increased? Have you seen patterns in different time periods? And how slow is slow enough for your viewing taste?

osprey_archer

There are so few Easter books that I don’t usually bother with any special Easter reading, but I stumbled upon a couple while I was hunting down all those Christmas books for Picture Book Advent. So this Easter morning, I made a cup of the very fancy hot chocolate from Burdick’s (really should have bought more) and read my Easter books.

The first was Tasha Tudor’s A Tale for Easter, which is about a little girl’s Easter. It’s hard to remember when Easter is (so true), but when Mama makes hot cross buns for tea on Good Friday, you know it’s just around the corner… and that’s when you have your Easter dream of riding a fawn to meet baby bunnies and ducklings!

The second was Jan Brett’s The Easter Egg. Every Easter, all the bunnies make beautiful eggs, because the maker of the most gorgeous egg gets to ride with the Easter Bunny as he makes his rounds. There are dyed eggs that have been turned into flower pots, carved wooden eggs, luscious chocolate eggs, classic psyanki eggs, even a mechanical egg… An explosion of delicious detail that really plays to Brett’s strengths as an illustrator.

I was also completely charmed by the borders on this one. Each page is bordered with branches of pussy willow, which over the course of the book swell from tiny buds to full pussy willows - and then on the last page, each pussy willow bud is a tiny bunny! It’s subtle enough that most people won’t notice, but it’s just delightful when you see it.

yourlibrarian

There's a party going on at Pillowfort from April 3-13 to celebrate its 10th anniversary. It's hard for me to believe I've been there for 8 of those years already.

Like Dreamwidth, Pillowfort is a small owner-run site with responsive staff that stays afloat via premium services. It functions like a combination of Tumblr and Dreamwidth. For those using Dreamwidth, two advantages I've found enormously helpful are the easy photo hosting/posts and the fact that improved reblogging exists, thus making it very easy to share content to communities. In practice, I find these two sites complement one another.

The atmosphere there is both welcoming and helpful. In my time I've had the occasional unpleasant encounter, but have found it quite chill. Apparently I'm not the only one, as this recent Tumblr refugee reported.: "Signed up yesterday. Decided this morning that I was gonna hang out on here and see what it was like. And... I've had the best time? (I don't mean to sound surprised; I'm just used to the normal horrible state of the modern internet.)..Where has this corner of the internet been for the last several years??? I'm so happy I've found y'all."

Given the "state of the modern internet", we definitely need more boutique social media site alternatives, not fewer. Pillowforter DoktorHobo has been tracking signups to Pillowfort for several years and noted that it has maintained a steady average of around 50 new people per week. I've never taken much notice of total accounts on a site because the vast majority are always inactive, and many more are sporadically active. But steady growth does tell a story.

For anyone interested in trying Pillowfort out, here are some starting points: ( Read more... )

If those don't answer your questions, feel free to ask away here about the site or its workings. There is also a community there for Dreamwidth users. It's been very inactive but I know that a number of people on Pillowfort do have DW accounts or have used it before. And if you just want to see what's going on with anniversary stuff there's a community collating it.

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dswdiane

There really is a problem with listening to my playlist of favorite favorites while writing. I get so caught up in the music that I cannot continue to write. Dammit. The guitar in "Blood Brothers" Iron Maiden just captures my head and body. Okay, now Springsteen, "Badlands." That song is so much a part of me that it's worn a familiar groove in my head. Um, spoke too soon. It still catches me. Think I need to turn the damn music off so I can hear what Duncan and Methos are saying. I'll always get caught by "For the ones who had a notion
A notion deep inside, That it ain't no sin to be glad you're alive."

So I was gonna turn it off but along comes Human by The Killers. Love that one too much and it moves me every damn time--as in my body starts moving.

And this story is a bitch. It won't let me go, but it keep moving to places that I didn't expect it to go. Well, hell, Duncan and Methos frequently to that to me. I ought to be used to it by now. And it's after 1:00 am. I totally gotta crash. The story will still be waiting when I wake tomorrow.

And it was lovely going out to for dinner with Speck, Roy, and Michael this evening. I'm really enjoying becoming closer and closer in my friendship with Speck.

Current Mood: happy
Current Location: Home
Current Music: Somebody that I Used to Know

raine

( You're about to view content that the journal owner has advised should be viewed with discretion. )

deird1

I've started a somewhat ambitious project, and am feeling very competent.

I have a box of letters written by my grandparents (to each other), along with various newspaper clippings, all from World War II. And my plan is to type it all up, put it in order, provide helpful comments, format it, index it, have it bound as a proper book, and present copies to all my grandparents' children.

And I know how to do all those things!

I'm making spreadsheet lists of documents, giving the letters unique ID numbers, correcting the punctuation while preserving the 80-year-old spelling, making notes on what will need to be indexed, and mentally planning how I'll present it all once it reaches an InDesign file…

I feel very good at my chosen profession today.

senmut

Just making notes on this reading of Clan of the Cave Bear.

Clan Fires

Brun (bison)
Ebra

Broud (wooly rhinoceros)
Oga
Brac
Grev

Creb (ursus & roe deer) [dies]
Iza (saiga antelope) [dies]
Ayla (cave lion)
Uba
Durc (wolf)

Grod (brown bear)
Uka
Zoug

Crug
Ika
Borg (boar)
Igra
Dorv [dies]

Droog (aurochs)
Aga
Vorn
Ona (owl)
Groob
Aba

Goov (aurochs)
Ovra (beaver)

In Progress reading notes

There is only a single lean-to.
She only ever calls for/thinks of one person, her mother.
She walked for days before finally collapsing.

My question is: why were they alone, even if there was a man with them she doesn't think of? We know from later books that Others lived near the peninsula, but why was Ayla, her mother, and potentially a mate, all alone out of the sound and sight of a people?

Location wise, despite later books, I would place them as likely part of the Sharamudoi, but she didn't physically match them either.

I swear, the time traveling family makes more sense.
Other than my original theory that Ayla is meant to be a cypher, an insert for modern humanity to observe from, and that is why she has no logical grounding in any culture we see.

A problem with rereading Earth's Children when I try to keep up on hominid discovery and theory, is seeing how vastly underdeveloped Auel made Neanderthal society.

It was the science of the time. She patterned Creb on one of the... Shanidar? Skeletons. But ultimately, her description of them is more accurate to an older evolutionary step by what we know now

Yes, very distracting to read so many animalistic characteristics written into the looks and sounds of the Clan.

The stark gender divide is also distracting, but so plot load bearing. It's not as if we know for certain.

All three of the siblings, Creb & Brun & Iza have herbivore totems. Roe Deer & Bison & Saiga Antelope
Which makes Ayla's Cave Lion, and the use of her as forcible change coming to the clan, even more interesting to me.

And something very interesting to the animal they hunt for the new cave/Broud's manhood hunt? Bison. His father's totem.

Creb was so damn wrong about Broud. And that is the tragedy of this book. BROUD consistently behaved in ways that were very un-Clan, destroying any future they could have made. I actually find it full of despair to realize that he was possessed by such Pride, Wrath, and Uncanny Valley as to bring about the fullness of this story.

Mainly because MANY of the Clan we see deserved so much better.

Creb finding memories of when Clan hunted together, all of the "new" ideas thrown out, Especially Goov's observations on her totem make for an interesting moment. The more I consider the Clan in THIS book versus the Clan in later books, it's easy to think of Brun's clan as being a step back on the chain, and the ones we meet later a step forward from that. Especially the clan man they find in the fourth book, with the different woman.

dswdiane

Wrote about 1500 words today. Half on chapter 5. The other half on a new first time Duncan/Methos story that popped into my head last night and then this morning would not leave me alone. Starring flaming brat mischievous Methos. Discovered I had to write that before I could concentrate on WIP.

Methos, you are the most annoying muse who ever lived. Yes, I know Duncan is just as invested in this story as you are, but it's from your POV and has to do with your feelings so it's on you.

I gotta go bed. It's after 3:00 am. I am insane.

Current Mood: sleepy
Current Location: Home
Current Music: None

senmut

AO3 Link | The Right Bait: Vierna's Tale (3352 words) by Merfilly
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Vierna Do'Urden, Jarlaxle Baenre, Drizzt Do'Urden, Original Drow Character(s)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:

A priestess vanished before Do'Urden fell...

The Right Bait: Vierna's Tale

Vierna Do'Urden, saved from the death of her House by her questioning that had brought her to Vhaeraun's closer attention, was still in the process of regaining her abilities — in divine spell-craft.

Her physical capabilities remained sharp, now that Lolth's Sickness had been purged from her for abandoning the Church of her childhood. Jarlaxle saw that now, as she reacted to something she had placed as wrong about him, despite him having adopted the local clothes and the lack of his distinctive hat.

The eye patch was still in place, which clicked for her as she settled back from facing him with her dagger in hand, just off the main thoroughfare with markets and vendor carts.

"Far from your usual grounds?" Vierna questioned, the dagger disappearing once more. Jarlaxle had no doubt that she was more than ready to defend herself even yet, a true tribute to the legacy of the man he was here to converse with her over.

"They're a bit messy right now, what with the chaos of two upper Houses dying in such recent years," he said gamely enough. "I am quite pleased to see you were as smart as the Weapon Master intimated over the years, and got out ahead of time."

She scowled… but was it over the mention of his lost lover, or the other news?

"Oh do settle, priestess," he said, managing to inflect the tone just as Zak always had when referring to her, and then Jarlaxle knew, because the anger was riding high. "After all, he spoke of you quite fondly, up until the night your former Matron took the Tenth position in the city."

It was a calculated risk… and the anger shifted briefly to regret before masking into polite interest only.

"Why are you here? If you'd been sent to fetch me back, this is not the approach your people would have taken," she reasoned.

"I had a chat with Dinin, the night that those who went with Briza and Tsinda Duskrym into the wilds returned — empty handed, and minus both clerics. It seems your wean-son is truly as elusive as the Ghost that sired him.

"And you."

Vierna took a very slow breath, and Jarlaxle wondered just what she thought of the boy, let alone her complicated feelings about Zaknafein.

"And?" she drawled, hinting at impatience with him.

"He purchased his way into my merry little band of mercenaries by retrieving a certain body from your ancestral crypt. Unfortunately for me, I do not currently possess a cleric of high enough standing that I could trust with the small matter of breathing life into that corpse."

Her eyes searched him fiercely over that.

"I have not — yet — attained that proficiency with my new place," she admitted.

"But you will." Jarlaxle smiled at her. "Care to commit to the deed now, or should I fish for another?"

"I do not know that he would even listen to me," Vierna admitted. "As I did not listen to him for far too long, despite his attempts to show me better."

Jarlaxle nodded. "He will listen, if you speak the right words. Do we have a deal?"

Vierna set her jaw and spine in a way that was all the best of Zaknafein and the unlamented Malice in one. "Yes."

"You can send to me, when you feel you have the mastery of the ritual again." He gave her a short bow, mocking in some ways, before turning off to go his own way. He rather doubted it would take her long to rise to the occasion. A decade, at most, if he had to wager on it.

While Vierna had initially been guided to Rilauven, her need for experience had been a factor in sending her to one of Vhaeraun's enclaves above the faerzress line, in a city that held two very different factions of His followers. His belief that her cunning, honed by keeping herself alive in that spider hole for so long despite having a zealot for a sister and a very dangerous Matron would serve Him well was strong.

She proved Him correct, when she managed to have the city powers bring down the head of the rival faction, keeping drow hands clean.

None of them expected the choice to move her there to have personal complications, even with her now able to freely communicate with the mercenaries of Menzoberranzan, to keep Jarlaxle aware of her progress in skill and acquiring the offerings necessary.

Drizzt, a full half decade after settling into the rhythm of life among goodly drow, had gotten to where he was willing to leave his son with Rylla and accompany Shana on her trade runs, finally. The pair of women had adopted them into their household, once Shana realized that Drizzt eagerly wanted to properly parent… and had no idea how. The trader had minded young ones frequently over the decades, always willing to foster without any urge to have one of her own.

Rylla appreciated that approach to family, and accepted it as part of her wife's ways.

This was the first run they had made to Skullport since he began going with them, and Drizzt had found the trip here exhilarating in some ways, using his skills to end threats in the passages of Undermountain.

His trip above, wearing a ring of glamour had not, in any way, prepared him for Skullport. This city was in perpetual shadow, rising up within its cavern, everything from well-buttressed (magical) dwellings to stick-built shanties looking forever on the verge of crumbling apart. There was a distinctly present sense of furtiveness and evil-doing that crackled along Drizzt's senses, but he betrayed none of his distaste for it.

The party of four drow swaggering their way, clothing and weapons gaudy with poor taste and too many coins, caught his attention immediately. He stayed loose and easy in his skin, not even shifting his body language to make the swords more visible.

Behind him, the rest of their people were staying just as relaxed, confident in the youngest fighter to ever hold Rylla to a draw, repeatedly.

"Gotta pay the toll if you want to do the trade," the foremost one said, leering at Drizzt in a way that struck fire along Drizzt's memories of graduation.

"No." Drizzt said the one word casually. When it led to the quartet blustering, he steadily walked toward the first speaker, eyes boring into that one with a promise of danger.

"You think you can bring your goodly little prats in here and not pay for the privilege?" the speaker snapped as his nerves led to a bit of sweat on his brow.

"I do not think it. I know it." Drizzt stopped at what would be easy lunging distance for himself… or them, if they knew how to use the gaudy basket hilt cutlasses.

It wasn't the talker that tried first, playing directly into Drizzt's hands. The clumsy lunge, with a dirk, had Drizzt spin away, catch the back of tunic and breeches in the man's passing, and then redirect his momentum into the other three.

The bullies didn't take the hint that this was no ordinary drow they were trying to intimidate.

Drizzt handed each one a cut across their dominant hand, a barely there poke in the wrist of their off hands, and in two cases, a punch with a hilt to the face.

The four took off running, yelling invectives back at them, but retreating nonetheless.

"Cousin," Shana said with amusement, "you had too much fun doing that."

"We'll need to keep a solid watch, for retaliation, but yes," he answered her unrepentantly.

"Silk Cutter," one of the guards said, facing Vierna with more respect than she'd seen on first arriving here. Something about applying her craft to removing a dangerous target had definitely changed attitudes. "You asked to be told when the Dancers returned to the marketplace."

Vierna nodded to that. "Thank you, Chaurah."

Her use of the woman's name gave her another psychological edge, and the guard actually meant the inclined head her way before going off to her post. That let Vierna go and change into robes that would afford her some protections from the threats outside the Temple, to go learn if the ridiculously good followers of Eilistraee were trading a specific component at less costly a price than most who traded in Waterdeep wanted.

The High Cleric had suggested that they were more fair in dealings with the drow of the Temple… while avoiding Nisstyre's Dragon Hoard company most of the time.

She had her mask on beneath the hood of her cloak, obscuring more of who she was on the off-chance someone of the Dragon Hoard came seeking revenge. They would not, in fact, find that too simple a task to accomplish, she swore in her soul. She had found a mission, in the chance to restore her father to life, and a purpose, in helping the Temple here rise to be the dominant faction for the god she had accepted.

It did not take her long to reach the marketplace, and make out where the Dancers had set their wares. She still found it strange that there were more drow who were soft and kind like her wean-son/little brother had been.

That thought was high in her mind as she came to the stall being run by … Shana. That was the name she had been given for the drow woman that ran trade for the Dancers. It was as she looked over the assembled band, six in total, that her entire world narrowed down to a singular focus, because resting against the wagon behind this stall, keeping it from being open to both alleys, was a young drow fighter with his hair unbound.

Two swords hung from the belt, on either side of the stool he was perched on, and Vierna knew that face like she knew her own.

Only her long experience at never betraying her emotion (despite Drizzt being one who could, sometimes, push her past that) kept her from doing more than flicking her eyes back to the wares on display.

"No storax resin?" she finally asked, forcing her voice to be slightly higher than usual, and mimicking the dialect of Rilauven instead of Menzoberranzan.

"Not this trip, Priestess, but if I know there's a guaranteed sale, we could have it on the next run," Shana said, polite and honest in her words.

"I am running low, and prefer it for the incense I make." Vierna made a considering noise. "Bring a full crock, and I would be willing to trade you a painter's cup of pure ormu powder. I hear your community makes numerous pieces of art."

Shana did some conversions, and then settled to haggle, treating the Masked God's cleric as she would any other customer. Vierna wondered at that on one level. No adherent of Lloth would ever do business with a 'heretic' after all. She had to work at maintaining the vocal pretense, and a careful look toward her brother indicated that he was… apparently… remaining at rest while the other four kept watch.

When she had finished her deal, with the resin slated to come to her the next trading trip down in three months, Vierna made herself walk away, pondering just how to approach the fact her brother was in the same city as she was.

Drizzt waited several long minutes before moving to just behind Shana.

"Did you know her?"

"No. Last trip here we heard rumor that the temple had gotten a priestess, but we hadn't verified." Shana kept her voice at the same level his was.

"I'll be away; please stay close to the wagon and no one wander off," Drizzt said, in that tone of protective concern he was far too young to have mastered. The other fighters nodded at him, and Shana didn't say anything else, before he vanished into the city. Even being unfamiliar with the layout, he could calculate where the best pathways were, having been told the rough placement of Vhaeraun's temple in regards to the marketplace.

He stepped out on the walkway ahead of the priestess several blocks from the temple itself.

She stopped, hood up, robes masking her body, and that mask hiding her face.

"Sister."

"How?!" she demanded, having been certain she had cloaked her voice well enough.

"Height, way you move, the ease of using both hands as you touched the merchandise, and the pronunciation of certain words."

"I was trying for Rilauven's dialect," she grumbled, but she did take a step toward him.

He did not flinch or move.

"Drizzt."

"Vierna."

He tipped his chin up after he said her name, and she reached up to take the mask off, slipping it into a secure pocket. They stood that way a long moment before he sighed.

"At least you're with the reasonable half of His people here, from all the tales I've heard. But I am very curious, and the streets are no place to talk. Given I humiliated the others, I do not want to be far from the wagon. If I come in two weeks, will you be willing to meet with me under truce at the place they call the Dimmed Lantern?"

"I would almost return with you to that stall to talk now, but I too have humiliated the Dragon Hoard recently," Vierna admitted. "Two weeks, my wean-son, my brother… son of our father."

His chest felt tight to hear her admit the truth of their ties, and he inclined his head, stepping aside so she could pass. She paused in his space, hands finding his to squeeze tightly.

"Keep yourself alive, little brother!" she said fiercely.

"It is what I excel in," he promised her, squeezing back, before they parted, so many questions hanging between them that would have to wait for the next time.

Vierna entered the Dimmed Lantern without any guards, her mask put away, even her hood down from her robes. She made eye contact with her little brother by the staircase, having just been standing there, waiting.

At least her informants had been prompt, if he was being that obtrusive still.

She joined him, and in silence, they went up the stairs, both having had too many days and nights to think about what should be shared now that each knew the other was still alive.

In the room, with the door shut and locked, Vierna didn't hesitate to just reach for and pull Drizzt into her arms, despite his initial resistance. He did relax, though, and that settled her nerves further.

"The leader of Bregan D'aerthe said you eluded the Matron's attempt to find you, but I was already gone from the House by then," she said at last, pulling back, holding onto his shoulders to study him. "You look well, and those clothes are surface-made, but well-worn. Is that how you escaped? Going above so young?"

He half-smiled, shaking his head, then drew her with him to the couch.

"I was still in the wilds, when Briza led a party to find me," he said. "They baited me… and I killed her, the cleric with her, some of the soldiers. After that, I had reason to turn to Blingdenstone, and eventually, with their aid, I did go above."

Baited. What kind of baiting would have made Drizzt turn so violent? She knew there was more, but did not press.

"I grew sick of the attrition," Vierna said, lacing her fingers with his, "as the two Houses warred for so long. I had begun to question, that night you left, because it hurt to not have the Weapon Master there, or to know how you fared when I had seen you were injured in that confrontation."

His eyes sparked for the memory, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

"My questions found answers from Vhaeraun… and I crafted my disappearance not long after, so He could help me reach His people before the illness of that Spider Bitch abandoning me could make it impossible to travel. A small enclave in Mantol-Derith, who passed me along their routes to Rilauven."

"The city under the Neverwinter Wood," Drizzt said. "I know a cleric from there, among Eilistraee's people."

"Not yours?" Vierna questioned, curious, and concerned, because being godless was sometimes a difficult thing.

He shook his head. "I will aid Her people, but I only live among them for necessity, at this point. I prefer the freedom of the surface."

He was still so very strange.

She would chase down 'necessity' in a moment, as he obviously had freedom of movement, so he wasn't enslaved.

"The leader of Bregan D'aerthe found me there," she continued. "He'd suborned Dinin, giving him freedom to live in the mercenaries for one small task." Vierna met Drizzt's eyes then. "He has Father's body. I accepted the posting here to learn faster, become stronger, so that I may perform the resurrection. I am not yet… there. But I will get there."

Drizzt's eyes had blown wide open, then narrowed… and finally accepted this as fact. "If he has the body, is he planning on producing the diamonds needed?"

"I am not leaving it to his vagaries," she told him firmly.

"Then I will bring you what treasure they insist I keep, from my forays into Undermountain and the ruins above that I keep finding when I scout for them."

Unasked. He just… unasked! Offered her a faster way to accrue the material cost!

"You could come here to stay, my word that you would be left alone by the others, and aid me more directly?" Vierna probed, wanting him closer, wanting to forge an actual bond with this man she had cared for and nurtured.

"No." He shook his head, and his free hand came up to her cheek to gentle the refusal. "I cannot leave the ones I aid now, not for some time, not at length."

"Why?" she demanded, her heart pricked with anger and sadness alike at his answer.

He shifted, then let go entirely of her to rise and pace the room a bit.

"The other cleric was the woman from graduation," he said at last, his back to her. "The bait was the son she bore."

Vierna rose, and went to press along his back, as understanding clicked into place. He'd been so badly wounded in his attitude after that night, and she'd never understood why.

"You're certain the boy is yours, I take it?"

"Two handed, questions everything, could hear the call of Eilistraee his whole life, something I'd been blocked from by Her… he is very much my son, and starting to favor our father in his jawline.

"He's only fourteen, maybe fifteen years old now? I don't like to leave him for more than a handful of days at a time, even with the help I have to raise him."

She slipped her arms around him and held him, pleased when he relaxed back into her, his head on her shoulder.

"Then… I will accept what aid you can give, and the visits you manage. In time, I would like to meet him, but he is still young. He should not be risking the passage between there and here, just to meet me."

"His name is Kastan, and I do want you to know him, for him to know we have more family," Drizzt agreed. "When he's older."

Vierna had understood, when Drizzt only stayed the two days. Before he returned, she intended to have sending stones readied, to let one of the temple wizards attune for them. She had even more reason to grow stronger in this place, though, to have her brother, and nephew, so close.

They might well get Zaknafein back before the boy was of an age to travel, but in time, they would be a family of three generations, despite their morality and end goals.

Somehow, she thought this suited her god even more than just her concern for her father had.

dswdiane

I did some really good work with all the patients I saw today. Than feels good.

Wrote about 2000 words. Probably gonna cut some of it, but we'll see when editing tomorrow. Know roughly what the next few scenes will be and the general direction of the plot.

I'm really tired. Worked hard this week. Wrote a lot. Spent a healthy amount of time hanging out with friends both in person and online.

Wrote all of that last night at about midnight. Didn't post. Don't even know why I didn't. Gods, I was tired beyond tired.

Current Mood: cheerful
Current Location: Home
Current Music: "Separate Ways" Exit Eden

labingi

(I mentioned last post that East-Farthing folk tend to use "funny" instead of "queer," but this was apparently a fluke. Merry is back to calling things "queer" and so do people in Bree.)

I understand why Peter Jackson cut out the Tom Bombadil. In addition to all the singing, it's one of the most digressive parts of LOTR, as it focuses very little on anything to do with the Ring (not nothing, but little). I had forgotten that Tom not only bursts into song a lot but talks almost entirely in meter. It is interesting, though, that he drops out of meter in the paragraph where he's talking about how old he is/how he predates the coming of Morgoth.

I had also forgotten that when the hobbits are cavorting naked on the Barrow Downs, it's actually only three of them cavorting naked. Frodo never loses his clothes, which is handy for him--and possibly, in universe, the hand of God--because he could have lost the Ring right there. This means, however, he owes us a naked scene, which he will give us later on.

Accents

At Bree, the gatekeeper identifies Frodo as being from the Shire by the way he talks, which I take to mean his accent because there aren't any obvious dialectical markers in his words (that I see).

This raises a thorny problem for LOTR adaptation or just reading aloud: what on earth is one to do about all the accents that would logically exist? Traditionally, (ex. BBC radio) readings have gone for elevated RP unless the lines show non-standard dialect markers. That's how I grew up and is my happy place, but I admit it doesn't make sense, and the Bree line suggests it's not reflective of Tolkien's intent. Jackson did possibly as well as one could with this, having subtle alterations between more British and more American across different groups. But I do find it weird that there's more accent variation among three hobbit cousins than across the whole rest of Middle-earth. Elves, to date, seem to always come out elevated RP, and Rings of Power got slammed for this--unfairly, I think, as it's just doing what everyone else has done and clearly did put some thought into accents. But it's a fair point that Elves are speaking a foreign language when speaking the Common Tongue, so it might make sense to have them sound foreign, relative to English. All in all, I don't have the perfect answer and would love to hear others' views.

selenak

Mind you, the non-fannish world feels like one long Good Friday for humanity these days, but still: time to share the annual joy of our Franconian Easter Wells. (And bridges.)

( Lots more eggs and wells beneath the cut )

Current Mood: calm
Current Location: Bamberg

rachelmanija

Click on my Ruth Chew tag to see what sort of books she's known for: small-scale children's fantasies focusing on magic-infused everyday objects and creatures in Brooklyn. This is her hard-to-find first book, which is not a fantasy.

The main characters are a brother and sister who were left, along with their never-seen younger brother and sister, in the care of their grandmother who feeds them canned tomatoes - yuck! They leave a note saying they're doing a long sleepover at a friend's house, then run away to the site where they often went camping, buy a cheap boat, and live on an island.

This is entertaining enough on its own, but mostly of interest because it shows how she course-corrected in her fantasy books: the flaws in this book are corrected, and she melds its strengths (likable kid characters, a focus on the practicalities and small details of both the human and natural worlds, a friendly old woman) with excellent small-scale magic. In all the rest of her books, there are just two kids - no unnecessary and off-page younger siblings. There are no mean kids or bullying (this book has two mean bullies who just drop out of the story). The parents are around but the kids' adventures take place out of sight, so there's no implausible runaway plots. And the old ladies are witches, which makes them even better!

selenak

In which Boyd becomes even more my favourite among the new characters, Kelly gets herself a mission, and Ed.... but that would be telling.

( Spoilers are on the case )

Current Mood: chipper
Current Location: Bamberg

feurioo posting in

tv_talk

Assortment of black and white speech bubbles

Welcome to the weekly roundup post! What are you watching this week? What are you excited about?

feurioo posting in

tv_talk

Watch on YouTube

Release: April 16

Every couple meets their match. BEEF returns with a new cast and a new “beef.” A young couple witnesses an alarming fight between their boss and his wife, triggering chess moves of favors and coercion in the elitist world of a country club and its Korean billionaire owner. Starring Carey Mulligan, Oscar Isaac, Cailee Spaeny, Charles Melton and guest starring Youn Yuh-jung and Song Kang-ho.

osprey_archer

I was very excited to read R. M. Ballantyne’s The Robber Kitten at the archive, because how could you go wrong with a title like that? And the cover seems promising: it features a kitten all dressed up like a highwayman, plumed hat and pistols and all.

Alas, the story is a morality tale, in which a kitten Goes to the Bad (led astray by bad company, we are told, although we never meet a single companion, evil or otherwise), realizes that wickedness has made it wretched, and returns to its grieving mother, who has been crying her heart out over her robber son. Now do any of us really believe that a mother cat would be sorry one of her kittens took to a life a crime?

However, Ballantyne frequently seems to forget that his characters are cats. Item: the robber kitten has to remind himself not to feel afraid as the sun sinks low. SIR you are a CAT you can SEE IN THE DARK. Item: the robber kitten falls out of a try onto his head. SIR you are a CAT you famously LAND ON YOUR FEET. Such a disappointment.

However, by fortunate coincidence I’m reading another book about a larcenous cat, Katherine Applegate’s Pocket Bear, which is narrated by the cat Zephyrina. Until recently a stray, Zephyrina has graciously consented to accept a home with Dasha and her mother Elizaveta, recent refugees from the war in Ukraine. To show her appreciation, she likes to bring back interesting finds that she has scavenged, especially toys for Dasha’s Second Chances Home for the Tossed and Treasured.

This has resulted in a wagon in front of the Second Chances Home for the Tossed and Treasures, full of Zephyrina’s recent finds, with an apologetic sign saying “Our Cat Is a Burglar,” to which Zephyrina objects. One: our cat? She is her own cat, thank you very much. Two: a burglar? What a way to refer to the Robin Hood of felines.

Zephyina is a deliciously recognizable type of cat, the previous stray who proudly believes that she is BAD! BAD TO THE BONE! but actually is a not-so-secret softie. In Zephyrina’s case, that softness manifests first with her friendship with Pocket Bear, a tiny teddy first sewn during World War I to accompany a soldier to war in his pocket.

Now over a hundred years old, Pocket Bear still remembers that formative military service. He calls the other toys in the Second Chance Home his troops, and worries over them like a kindly general. He calls Zephyrina “Corporal Z.” She cheekily sketches a salute and brings home more liberated-not-stolen toys.

The story kicks off when she brings home an old bear from a trash can. A very old bear; a possible antique, which might bring in a lot of money, which Dasha and Elizaveta desperately need to establish a new life in the United States. But can they get Dasha and Elizaveta the money they need and also find the old bear a loving home…?

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